


Kiss Me Thru The Phone

by 27dragons, tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Confessions, Developing Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Secret Relationship, Trolling, climbing in through the window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Trolling Steve seems like a good idea, right up until Bucky's really, really into the pretend phone sex...But... seems like maybe Tony's into it, too...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> mrunaliniraman said: 
> 
> Hi!!!! I really really really love your stories tisfan!! I love the way you write angst and I love your PWPs!!! You are my go-to person for my winteriron fix!! You write Bucky & Tony so well!! My favorite work of yours is "Helping Hands" though!! I dont know if you accept prompts but if you are, would you please please consider writing this one? “I started pretending to dirty talk to you an hour ago and it stopped being pretending 58 minutes ago” sex. (If it wouldn't be too much trouble) <3 <3

Bucky knew he should be paying attention to the actual words, but Tony’s voice rasping in his ear was both soothing and oddly tantalizing, like a spray of rain against his skin. He closed his eyes -- to better visualize the quirky engineer -- and tried to concentrate.

“...into the third metajoint, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to run into a frayed wire before you get that far. This would be so much easier if I could open it up in my workshop, but at least the new remote diagnostics functions are working properly.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, roughly. “Know how you can’t wait t’ get your hands on me.” He wouldn’t have dared say it, if Tony had been sitting on the workbench next to him. There was all this weird silences and strange looks and the feeling of Tony’s eyes on him whenever they were in the same room. Not that Bucky blamed him; being in the same room with a fella that’d done his best to kill ya did weird things for your peace of mind. It was just a hurdle that Bucky didn’t know how to get past.

Steve, who’d walked by in the living room with an enormous bowl of Doritos (the man couldn’t eat like a normal person, out of the fucking bag, but Steve had said on multiple occasions that the crumpling of those bags made him literally crazy), stopped. “Who are you talking to, Buck?” His eyebrows were both way, way up.

Was Bucky doing something weird? He was just letting Tony talk him through a bit of engineering concerns, although… well, Bucky was flirting, a little. When it was safe and Tony couldn’t actually shudder and get up to leave.  

Tony, oblivious to Steve’s presence, snarked back, “Well, who could blame me for that? That should hold for a few days, anyway, and as soon as I’m back, I’ll get my hands all up inside you.” Bucky could practically _feel_ the smarmy smirk at that last.

Bucky eyed Steve with his fucking bowl of snack chips and his nosy-parker look, pursed his lips. “Oh, baby, that sounds _amazing…_ can’t wait to feel you, get your hands all over me.” He winked, lewd and nasty at Steve. “What, can’t a guy get a little lovin’ without you givin’ me the stink-eye?”

Steve choked on Dorito dust. “You’re having _phone sex_? In the living room?”

“Yeah, they take shiny credit cards for that,” Bucky said. They really did, he’d discovered that a few weeks back. The future was weird. Amazing, but weird. He and Rhonda had had a lovely conversation that left him hard and aching for most of the afternoon, and as far as Bucky was concerned, it was worth every penny (quite a few pennies, as it turned out.)  

He waited for Tony to splutter and complain and then hang up in his ear.

He was not quite prepared for Tony to say, “Wait, are we trolling someone? Is it Captain Starchy-britches? Please say yes. I will totally be a 1-900 sex call number if it involves trolling Cap.”

“Oh, _yeah_ , like that. Take off your shirt, baby, look in the mirror, tell me what you see…” Bucky watched as Steve glanced down at his bowl, back at Bucky, at the television, and then back at Bucky. Bucky gave him about fifteen more seconds before he either threw something, or fled into the kitchen.

“Finely-toned pecs,” Tony shot back, “because I’m a masochist who lets the Black Widow design my workout routine. So yeah, probably not quite super-soldier standard, there, but if I do say so myself, I’ve got some good tone going. Pecs, a nice six-pack, pretty decent shoulders, too. Why, you wanna put your hands on me? Going to touch all this skin I’ve unwrapped for you?”

“Yeah, great shoulders,” Bucky said, swallowing hard. He’d seen Tony stripped down to a workout tank in the gym before; super-soldiers got all their best out of a fucking bottle, but Tony’s body, lithe and lean and… _god_. “Little scattering of freckles over the collarbone. Wanna lean down and trace a line with my tongue over those, play a little game of connect-the-dots until your head tips back, just--”

And there went Steve, bowl still tucked against his chest. He paused in the doorway. “You have a bedroom, Buck,” he said, glaring disapprovingly.

“Which is right next to yours,” Bucky called out after him. “If I start moanin’ in there, you’re gonna hear it.”

“You are a terrible person,” Steve declared. Bucky waited a few moments, then-- yep, Steve slammed his bedroom door.

“Steve thinks I’m a terrible person,” Bucky reported, putting his bedroom voice back on. “What do you think, babydoll? You think I’m just _awful_?”

“You are,” Tony said, sounding very serious. “It’s awful of you to just leave me hanging like that after putting your mouth on my neck and getting me all heated. At least get your shirt off for me so I can touch you, feel all those gorgeous muscles, maybe play with your pretty nipples some. You like that?”

Well, yes, Steve was probably still listening. He wouldn’t _want_ to be listening; he’d hate himself for listening, and yet, hadn’t Steve always listened, watched, waited, eager as hell, every time Bucky had himself a new date, a good time. Trying to figure out what Bucky was doing right, what Steve was doing wrong. And… oh, hell with it. “Sorry, sugar,” Bucky said. “Didn’t mean to get you all wound up… not without a little somethin’ for you.” He flicked his hand down his chest, visualizing Tony yanking up the thin cotton fabric. Layers. Bucky wore layers these days; seemed like he was never quite warm enough. “Thought you might want to take it off, for me. Slide that tee over my head and put your mouth there. Like it when you lick, you got such a beautiful mouth, just made for sinnin’.”

“ _I’ve_ got a mouth?” Tony actually sputtered. “Have you even looked in the mirror? But licking, I can do licking. You look about good enough to eat, anyway. Lick my way right around those nips, maybe nibble a little -- you seem like the sort who likes just a hint of teeth, yeah? Keep you distracted with that while I get those shirts off you. Put my mouth on your stomach, too, because that just can’t be real. Needs testing. Tasting. Want to feel your hands in my hair, that silent begging, get you to where you don’t even know what it is you want, just that you want the hell out of it.”

_Are we still trolling Steve?_ Bucky wanted to ask, because god, Tony sounded so goddamn into it. Bucky stretched, let his body sprawl across the sofa, his legs fall open like welcoming an imaginary lover between his thighs. He probably should have known he was getting hard, but it didn’t really register until his dick complained about the lack of space. _Holy shit_. Tony might or might not be getting into it, but Bucky…

Bucky was all the way in…

_Jesus fuck._

“I’ll take a handful of that hair,” Bucky growled into the phone. “Keep that slick mouth of yours right where I want it, until my skin’s red with beard burn. You got a hand, baby, get these jeans off me, I…” Bucky matched his actions to his words, lifting his hips up, and wriggling around, unfastening the button with one hand. The zipper went down with an audible sizzle, metal fingers over the metal teeth. _Uh-huh…_ yeah, any second now, Tony was going to hang up on him, and then the next time they had to get together for anything -- well, Bucky could play it off as trolling Steve, but damn, he wanted to hear what Tony would do. God, he could just see it, that compact, muscular body, kneeling between Bucky’s thighs, dark head bowed, dark eyes pupil-blown and wantin’ it.

“Yeah, jeans off,” Tony agreed, sounding more than a little breathless, himself, and was that the purr of Tony’s zipper over the line? “I got a hand for more than that, honey, can’t wait to get me a handful of you. Nice soft touch to start, just a little tease, drag it down nice and slow. Feel all that heat, feel how big you are. How _hard_. You hard for me yet? Giving me something nice to play with?”

Oh… oh, god. Bucky stuck a hand down the front of his jeans. Yeah, okay, that… that was going on down there. How the hell had this happened, he was beyond getting hard, he was so fucking thick right now, it hurt. “Yeah,” Bucky slurred. “I got somethin’ here for you, all right.” He let his fingertips drag up the front of his shorts, the metal digits the perfect tease for him, just enough pressure to tempt, the smooth surface a shiver up his spine. “Wonder what you’d look like, those honey-gold eyes of yours just lookin’ up at me while you take it. God. Bet you look pretty as anythin’ with your lips wrapped around me.” He stroked himself, once, unable to resist. He couldn’t hold back the throaty moan, either, didn’t even try.

Hell with Tony taking his dick, if Tony was there, Bucky’d have him on his back, pants around his ankles, nudging his thighs open so Bucky could take a taste. Hell with it. “”Course, I’m impatient,” he said. “Wouldn’t let you get much before I’d have to check out what you got for me… you… I bet it’s pretty, just like the rest of you. Glowing bronze skin, so hot and hard for me, honey, are you?”

Tony let out a noise that wasn’t quite a moan and wasn’t quite a whimper, but existed somewhere between the two. “Hard like you wouldn’t believe,” he groaned. “Fuck, I... Yeah, show you what I’ve got, about ready to pound damn nails. Need you to touch me, slow and firm and--” His breath hitched, and he had to pant a little before continuing, “What d’you think, honey; I can’t decide if I’d rather see you jack me with that gorgeous hand or put that mouth of yours to good use.”

Oh, _god_. Tony was actually thinking. About Bucky. He hadn’t inserted some random faceless, nameless fantasy, he was actually… Bucky’s hips rocked up, rutting against the air. “Gonna shove my fingers in your fuckin’ mouth,” Bucky told him. “Let you lick and suck those, like you want me t’ do to you, an’ I’ll show you what a fast learner I am. Do it just how you want it. You want it hard an’ fast, or take my time and lick you like a popsicle? Just the head, suck you in and lick along your ridge until you’re beggin’ for it. You want that, baby, can you imagine that?”

Bucky was working himself harder, letting the palm of his metal hand cup himself, then slide up and down, listening to the click and whine of servos. The delicate shift of plates and joints. Knew that Tony could hear it over the phone. Knew that Tony would know what he was doing, and wanting him to know. Wanting him to feel it… “Come on, baby, that’s good…”

“Yes,” Tony said, and that was a shameless gasp. “Yeah, yes, so good, honey, _fuck_ , that’s... You... Going to touch yourself, too, while you’re doing that? Make me beg for it, and have to squeeze hard so you don’t pop off too fast. Or maybe you do, just let it go and mark me up with it, hn? Get me good and desperate and--” He broke off in a whine, and Bucky could hear the slick rasp of skin on skin, slow and then fast. “Oh, _fuck_ \-- Bucky...”

Jesus, Jesus _fuck._ Bucky swore fervently. It had to be his name, Tony had to say his _goddamn name_ while he was coming, and Bucky lost it. He scrambled with his jeans, pressing the heel of his hand over it while he came, white ribbons of sensation up his legs and spine, spinning up through his neck, tingled along his scalp until he was gasping with it, shuddering and shaking. “Oh, oh, _christ_ , I… oh, my god…” He nearly let the phone fall to the floor, the sudden ease and utter relaxation caused it to slip from his grip, land on his shoulder.

He ended up panting shamelessly into the phone, trying in vain to regain some sort of equilibrium, utterly aware that he’d just jerked off in the fucking living room, while Steve was probably still listening despite his best efforts. With Tony Stark’s voice chasing him into oblivion. “Holy shit.”  

Tony was panting for breath, hoarse and harsh. “Oh, god. That... That happened. Oh my god.” His breaths started to slow a little, to smooth out, though they weren’t stretching quite into sleepy-sounding, yet.

There were so, so many things Bucky could have said. Nasty things that would have ensured this never came up in conversation, ever again. Things to make it a joke, a fun time, but not worth repeating. Things… so many things. He wasn’t exactly not-horrified by his own behavior. Except…

Except that he’d really… he really _wanted_ it.

Wanted it to not be a joke.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That happened.” He swallowed hard, then let himself be… vulnerable. Honest. “It was… good. Nice.” _Nice_ was inadequate, and Bucky almost scoffed at himself. “I… liked it.”

Tony stopped breathing for a few heartbeats. “That’s... good?” he said. He sounded uncertain. “I mean, of course it’s good, I just didn’t... Uh. I liked it, too. Except, please, dear god, _please_ tell me that Steve left the room at some point, okay. Lie if you have to, just...”

Bucky let himself relax a little more. Laughed, light. “Think he left the fuckin’ building a while ago,” Bucky said. “I wasn’t quite payin’ attention, but I ain’t heard him in a while.” He considered the empty space at his side where someone should be curled up, post-coital glow lightin’ up the room like a little beacon. “Wish _you_ were here.”

“Do you?” Tony sounded surprised. “I mean. I could. Be there, if you, if that was... something you actually wanted?”

There was a raw pain in Tony’s voice that snagged at Bucky’s attention. “I… uh…” He didn’t even know how to say it, he had been joking, at first, and then… “I wasn’t… I mean… I ain’t gonna lie, it was… unexpected. Didn’t know you bent like a bottle-cap, too. If… yes. Yes, that’s something I actually want. If… if you want it. Too, that is.”

God, maybe living with Steve had cursed him, or something. He was used to being smooth, and that… that was nothing like smooth. That was as bumpy and ugly and awkward as a thing could possibly be, and if Tony laughed now and hung up, Bucky’d be damn well heartbroken, and worse, Tony would fuckin’ _know it_.

Tony was quiet for a moment, and Bucky wished like hell Tony’s face was visible, wanted to know what was going on in that head. “I didn’t think... I thought you didn’t really like me,” Tony said, and there was that raw note again. “Just, y’know. Have to get maintenance somewhere. And all of Steve’s dumb get-along speeches.”

“Steve’s speeches are pretty dumb,” Bucky agreed. He squirmed a little; his pants were getting uncomfortable, and the couch was too big an’ empty. He was still riding the drift-down from his orgasm, and talking about it without being able to smell Tony’s hair, without feeling the warmth of him pressed against Bucky’s side… that was a hole he wasn’t sure he could reach across. “But it sounds like _we_ got us some talkin’ t’ do. I’d… like to do that with m’arms around you.”

“That... sounds pretty good,” Tony admitted. “Hold that thought, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. An hour. Two, tops. Maybe clear out of the living room, though.”

Bucky managed a distinctly uncomfortable groan and pulled himself upright. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Got it. Moving my decidedly unmotivated ass into the bedroom.” All he really wanted to do was sleep, pillowed up against a warm body, listen to another heartbeat as he drifted in dreams. “Come on over, soon’s you can, babydoll. Want… wanna do everything we talked about.”

How was it that he was feeling shy, all the sudden? He’d been so blatant, wanton on the phone. And the idea of having Tony actually in his arms made him as giddy as a schoolboy with a crush.

“Oh, we’re going to do so much more than that,” Tony promised. “It sounds like we have some catching up to do.”

Bucky groaned. “Fly faster.” He tapped the disconnect and scooched back into the bedroom. Steve’s room was dead silent. Bucky was humming under his breath and couldn’t help the dopey, just got laid face he was making as he stripped out of his clothes and headed for the shower. He’d be in thin sleep pants and his hair scraped back in a bun by the time Tony pushed in through the door, and they could… well, just see what happened next…

 


	2. Satisfaction Guaranteed (Imaginary Lovers)

Even with the armor around him, it was chilly at thirty-five thousand feet. Which was good, because Tony needed that cold air to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

He really had just had phone sex with Bucky Barnes, starting in an attempt to troll Rogers, but swiftly moving into the realm of _wait, are we taking this seriously?_ and then jumping straight off the cliff into the waters of _oh fuck yes I want it_. Tony hadn’t come that hard in... well years, anyway. And that was only with Bucky’s voice purring in his ear. What would it be like with that super-soldier body pressed against his, that musky scent filling his nose?

Tony was beginning to wish he hadn’t cracked that icing problem, because the suit was _not_ built to make way for sudden adjustments in bloodflow. Ow.

Anyway, if it’d been just sex, that wouldn’t have really phased him. Tony had been doing one night stands for decades. No-strings sex wasn’t even a thing worth batting an eye at, even allowing for the unexpected partner.

No, it was the sweet, almost _shy_ tone in Bucky’s voice when they’d finished and admitted it had been more than just a troll, that it had _meant_ something, that had really rocked Tony. He’d been aware of his growing crush on Bucky, but positive it was destined to remain unrequited, based on the way Barnes shut down every time he showed up for Tony to work on the arm. To imagine that those feelings might, in fact, be reciprocated...

Well, Bucky hadn’t been wrong about there being some talking to do.

Slowed by a crosswind, it took Tony just over an hour to make it back to New York, and several minutes to identify the sensation in his stomach as nerves. Tony had never backed down from anything in his life, though, so he made a wide circle around the city and came in on a slow approach for the downtown apartment building where Steve and Bucky had set up.

And that just made Tony wonder even more... Sure, this might actually turn out to be something real. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t keep trolling Cap a little, did it? Grinning behind his faceplate, Tony pulled up just outside Bucky’s bedroom window and knocked carefully on the glass.

The curtain gave a curious little twitch and then Bucky swept it to one side, tucking a Glock into his belt at the same time. He unlatched the window and slid it open. “You lookin’ to make me lose my deposit by bustin’ a window, babydoll?”

Tony climbed through the window, which was first of all, not that easy to do in the armor, and second of all, something he hadn’t done since shortly after college (and then it had been going back out the window. In something of a hurry). He didn’t remember it being this difficult. But finally he made it into the room and shed the armor. “I’m hurt,” he told Bucky, pouting, “that you think I couldn’t fix a window. A _window_ , for Bob’s sake.”

“Pretty sure you could,” Bucky said, sliding the window down, checking his weapon and dropping it in a drawer. “But that’s like askin’ Sandro Botticelli to do a color-by-number.” Bucky leaned against the wall next to the window, watching Tony with half-masted eyes. “You’re… uh. Actually here. Wasn’t sure… I mean. Damn it, I used t’be good at this, an’...” Bucky turned a deep red, color mantling over his cheeks and down his neck and he scrubbed at his face with the metal hand, then across his scalp and ended with a squeeze at the back of his neck. “Hi.”

Tony immediately felt better. If Bucky was fumbling a little, then Tony wasn’t the only screwed up person in the room. He could work with that. “Hi,” he said back, and stepped up into Bucky’s space. “First things first: is your patriotic popsicle roommate home?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, he… made some pointed comments to the middle of the living room and went for a run. Think he was texting with Sam on his way out, too. I ‘spect I’ll get a whole ‘bad roommate lecture’ next time he pins me down for ten minutes.” Bucky’s hand came up, slow, and he stretched out his fingers like he almost expected them to go right through, like Tony was some sort of extra-vivid daydream, and he exhaled, hard, when he touched Tony’s shoulder.

Tony nodded, mind racing. “Okay, good. We can go over the salient points in something like privacy. And then you can really _earn_ that lecture that you’re going to get anyway after he gets home, what do you think?” Tony grinned, sharp and easy. “He believed 900-sexlines; do you think we could get him to believe an actual escort?”

“You gonna be my good-time guy, Tony?” Bucky asked, eyebrow going up. “Show me a good time?” He closed the distance, until there were only a few millimeters between them. “See how long it takes Stevie t’ crack?” There was a sly smile tugging up the side of his mouth.

Tony tipped his head back to keep his eyes on Bucky’s. “Honey, I will show you the _best_ time,” he promised. “Trolling Steve is just the icing.” He put his hands on Bucky’s hips, carefully at first, and then holding on more firmly. “What’d’ya say, hot stuff?”

“I say th’ little punk still owes me five dollars from a poker game back in 1943, when he was usin’ marked cards. This might… be good interest, you think?” Whatever Tony thought of that was going to have to wait because Bucky’s mouth was so close to Tony’s that he could feel the soft puff of breath, so beautiful and red with that delightfully upturned top lip, and then--

Bucky closed the distance between them, lips warm and light on Tony’s. Gentle and almost sedate, chaste, and then, just the faintest flicker, his mouth parted, tongue slid out and brushed along Tony’s lower lip.

Tony all but moaned. That delicate touch was not, _not_ what he’d expected and it was undoing him in all the best ways. Tony let his lips fall apart, not demanding, not quite yet, willing to let Bucky explore. He tucked his thumbs into Bucky’s belt loops and let his hands curve over Bucky’s hips, teasing at the swell of that taut ass, and pulled them close together, fitting their bodies together like a puzzle.

“Tony,” Bucky said his name like a prayer, reverent and low. His hands cupped Tony’s face, the slick metal of his fingers sliding into Tony’s hair. He growled, low in his throat, and then kissed Tony, wanton, abandoned. Kissed like Tony was the last man on earth, or the first thing that Bucky’d ever wanted. Like the only thought in Bucky’s brain was to melt into Tony. His tongue swept inside Tony’s mouth, devouring him, igniting each nerve.

How was this man even _real_ , that he could kiss like this? Wholly unfair. Tony clung to his hold on Bucky’s hips for dear life, embracing the waves of heat that threatened to consume him. When Bucky finally came up for air -- Tony was pretty sure his own air had run out several minutes earlier, and equally certain that he didn’t care in the slightest -- Tony took advantage of the pause to duck in and nip, kiss, and lick his way along Bucky’s jawline until he came to the corner of it. Tony nuzzled at that spot for a moment, testing Bucky’s reactions, and then tipped his head a little further to scrape his teeth over Bucky’s earlobe, breathing hot and warm into Bucky’s ear.

Tony had a lot of practice, wearing a suit made out of metal, in carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders, which was good, because Bucky went a little wobbly and suddenly Tony found himself holding up two hundred pounds of super-soldier.

“Not… not that I’m _complainin’_ or nothing, but weren’t we gonna talk, baby? Jus’ don’t wanna get into this without both of us on th’ same page.”

Tony pulled away with a hard breath. Talk. Right. He filed away the earlobe as a point to be revisited later, then forced himself to take his hands off Bucky’s ass and take half a step back. “Okay,” he managed. “Talk, I can... Yep, talk is a thing I can do.”

And probably best that they get this out of the way before Cap’s prying ears came home, anyway, even if they _weren’t_ going to try to troll him.

“Full disclosure,” Tony said, “I’m kind of a mess. Not that any of us are particularly well-adjusted, granted, but stable relationship material, I am not. So I don’t know what you were hoping to get out of this, but I should warn you right up front that I am probably going to fuck up. A lot.”

The look Bucky gave him was raw, full of emotion, blue eyes huge and liquid. “I don’t know,” he said, “what I’m hopin’ for. What I do know is that I’m a greedy bastard. If what you want is friends with bedside visitation, that’s fine with me. An’ I’ll take what you give me an’ then go sniffin’ around for more. You want flowers an’ dancing, dollbaby, I can do that, too. What I can’t do is lyin’. You tell me t’ back off, an’ I’m gone. But don’t lie. Don’t make me catch you with someone else, an’ everything else is gold.”

Well, that was nice and clear, anyway, though it smacked of some sort of unpleasant experience in the past, and Tony kind of wanted to find whoever it was and shake them around a little, because, really, cheaters were assholes. “No lying,” he repeated, nodding. “I can do that. Might have to go to PR events with someone else on my arm, but I’ll make sure you’re in the loop so you know what to expect. That’s just publicity, anyway, not...” He waved a hand. “This.” Whatever this actually was. “We get more serious, we can revisit that, but... literally six hours ago I thought you barely tolerated me, so I’d like to sort of ease into emotional waters.” That was about as honest as he could be, and wouldn’t Pepper be proud, if she knew?

Bucky brushed his metal fingers down Tony’s cheek. “Did you think that? Barely toleratin’ you?” He scoffed. “Didn’t… didn’t know what t’ say. Thought I scared you, so I didn’t talk much. Didn’t wanna run you off. But _this_? This is me, courtin’ you with intentions. T’ see if we’re compatible… if we _could be_. If that’s not what you want, not what you’re interested in, I’ll take one night, an’ then never again. You don’t have to answer that now.” He moved in again, claimed Tony’s mouth for a quick, hot kiss, then leaned his forehead against Tony’s. “You want to come to my bed, baby?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony said fervently. He wanted to let the other thoughts settle and sink in, but damned if he didn’t know he wanted _that_ , for sure. He slipped his arms around Bucky’s neck and caught Bucky’s mouth for another kiss, slower and just as heated. “Take me to bed.”

Usually Tony’s views on magic were pretty clear; he didn’t like it. But Bucky surely had some sort of sorcery because it didn’t seem to take any time at all as Bucky peeled him out of the flight suit, fingers finding the auto-zips with unerring precision. And each inch of skin that Bucky exposed was thoroughly investigated by Bucky’s mouth. He planted sensual kisses along Tony’s neck, and then across his collarbone. He flicked his tongue over Tony’s bicep. Traced a finger down his side. “God, look at you,” Bucky murmured, then nipped at Tony’s rib. He got the suit hanging loose at Tony’s waist and drew back to actually look. “ _Glorious_.”

Tony huffed a little. “Don’t lay it on _too_ thick,” he said, teasing, “or I won’t be able to believe you, Peak of Human Perfection.” He couldn’t resist reaching out to touch, himself, though, hardly able to believe he was allowed. He traced the edges of Bucky’s silhouette, along his arm and up over his shoulder, skating the edges of all that muscle. He paused near the edge of skin and metal -- he’d mostly avoided touching that divide when working on the arm, not sure if it was painful or sensitive. “Can I--?”

Bucky took Tony’s hand, pressed a kiss against his palm, then drew his fingers down the crease. His skin was jagged there, ridged and irregular, the scars still dark. Under the skin, the muscles twitched and shivered at the touch. Tony could feel the metal underneath that disappeared into the bundles of muscle tissue, adding support to the structure. “Yes,” Bucky said. “Yeah, Tony. You can.”

Christ. Tony had seen x-rays of the skeletal reinforcement for the arm, but _feeling_ it was a whole new level. He was torn between being furious that something so horrific and invasive had been done to Bucky, and utterly fascinated and impressed by the engineering that had gone into it.

Probably this was not the best time for an engineering boner.

Tony traced along the edge of the scars, proving some kind of point that he couldn’t entirely articulate, and then moved his touch to the arm itself. He knew how sensitive the arm was, unless Bucky had lied about it previously, so he set to work to make the metal shiver with his touch, an itch, a tickle, and unbearable tease of sensation that made Bucky’s eyes close briefly. “I want,” Tony said carefully, testing the sliding plates at Bucky’s elbow, “to touch every inch of you.”

“I… uh, yeah, I want that, too,” Bucky murmured. He traced the line of Tony’s collarbone, uneven, and Tony realized he was playing connect-the-dots. “Such a little thing, but damn, they jus’ make me want you more. These little freckles, like reminders that you’re more’n a dream.”

Tony wasn’t sure that actually made sense, but it seemed to work for Bucky, so he wasn’t going to complain. He put his hands on Bucky’s chest and slipped them down, pausing to flick at Bucky’s nipples on the way, grinning at the quick intake a breath that garnered -- another thing for the list of reactions to explore. The muscles of Bucky’s stomach jumped when Tony brushed over them, teasing at the waist of his jeans. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Bucky shivered, skin rippling with goosebumps in the wake of Tony’s touch. He swayed, then his arms went around Tony’s waist, lifted him up until he was forced to wrap his legs around Bucky’s hips to keep them balanced. Bucky swung them around and then laid Tony down on his bed. “Want you, Tony,” Bucky said, finding the zipper again and shucked Tony the rest of the way out of that suit like an oyster. “There you are. Oh, my god.” His hands were everywhere on Tony’s skin, the shiny pads of his metal fingers sliding over Tony’s chest, along his thigh, teased at the crease of his hip.

Tony arched into the touch, begging shamelessly for more. “Now you’re overdressed for this party,” he managed, and tugged impatiently at Bucky’s belt, fumbled with the button of Bucky’s jeans. God, he wanted, he _wanted_ , more than anything else, to feel Bucky’s weight over him, pressing him down into the mattress. Wanted the tickle of Bucky’s breath against his neck. Wanted... everything. He managed to unzip Bucky’s jeans and work them down a little, needing to see Bucky’s cock and know he was going to have that. “Off,” he insisted, pushing ineffectually at the too-tight clothes.

Bucky squirmed a bit, rolling his hips while he stripped out of his jeans, getting them inside out and having to tug at one foot to finally kick free, and another swipe and shimmy and the drawers went down, too. With a soft moan, Bucky settled himself in the cradle of Tony’s thighs, rubbing them together carelessly in his effort to reclaim Tony’s mouth. “Oh, god,” Bucky said, again, rocking his hips against Tony’s leg.

Tony groaned softly at the heat and friction, thrusting his hips into it. He surrendered his mouth to Bucky’s plundering, and focused instead on touching every bit of Bucky’s skin that he could reach, testing the contours of Bucky’s back, the dip of spine and the soft, flat spot just at the base of it. “You feel so good, honey,” Tony gasped, hips rolling helplessly.

Strong arms slid under Tony’s back, rolled them over until Tony was perched on top, straddling Bucky’s hips. He pulled Tony closer, his grip powerful, hands stroking up Tony’s thighs and thumbs brushing over his belly. Arched upward to kiss again, sought and found and chased and claimed, as if he had an eternity to memorize Tony with his mouth. His kisses were so slick and torrid that Tony almost didn’t notice when those metal fingers closed around the length of his cock and stroked. _Almost_.

Tony rocked into it, desperate for more, for as much as Bucky would give him and then more again, and then rolled back down to slide against Bucky’s cock, thick and heavy between them. “Oh, fuck, I am _not_ going to last if you keep doing that,” Tony gasped. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into the touch again, though, trying to set a rhythm.

Bucky bit at his bottom lip, watching Tony with a half-lidded gaze. “Yeah? You’re gonna miss some of th’ best parts, darlin’.” He rolled them over again, and Tony started calculating how many more times they could do that before they went off the side and onto the floor, and he was just arriving at an approximate when Bucky slithered down between Tony’s legs, spread his thighs wide and took a long, sinful taste.

Tony nearly levitated off the bed. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he choked, “Bucky!” He threaded his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tried to nudge Bucky into doing that again, holy _shit_. “Oh, god...”

Bucky’s hands were under Tony’s ass, pushing him into a brilliant, torturous arch that left him entirely exposed, on display, and then Bucky’s mouth was on him as if he were starving and Tony was a banquet, the only thing that could satisfy. What Bucky did with his mouth was wicked, his tongue was cunning and practically danced along the ridge of Tony’s prick. He also seemed to have left a gag reflex behind in some distant past, because _holy hell_ , he took Tony all the way to the root in a single swallow. He drank Tony down like wine, learning Tony with his mouth, all the things that drove Tony wild.

Tony fought not to thrust up into that perfect heat and pressure, struggled to relax and just let it happen, but god, it was hard, because Bucky’s mouth was perfection, his tongue a torment, and he was _looking at Tony_ through those ridiculous eyelashes of his, heavy-lidded with pleasure even as he worked Tony’s dick even deeper, which Tony had not thought possible. Tony clenched his hands in Bucky’s hair and firmly reminded himself not to fuck Bucky’s mouth with the relentless urgency that was washing through him. “Oh, god, Bucky, you... _Fuck_.”

The soft groan that came out of Bucky’s throat shivered over Tony’s skin, rattled deep in his spine. Bucky pulled off, slow, easy, licking at Tony like an ice cream until he was completely off. He rubbed his cheek against Tony, cat-like, then, “God, you taste good. Could do this all night, baby. Wanna take you apart an’ make you scream.” He teased along the crease of Tony’s thigh, and back, metal finger stroking Tony’s crack.

“Nnnngggg, yes,” Tony managed, writhing in Bucky’s grasp, and how hot was that, Bucky just holding him up like that. “You... you do that. But next time I get to put my mouth on you.” Because damn if he was going to let that slide by.

Bucky shifted him, a little. “To your left, eleven o’clock, Tony, grab that for me, would ya?” Which was all good and well, but then when Tony stretched to grab -- oh, lube, nice -- Bucky lapped at Tony’s cock, ran his tongue over Tony’s balls, and damn it was hard to remember to do anything when that was… oh, Jesus Horatio Christ, Bucky was nose-deep, devouring Tony with the single-mindedness that only super-soldiers seemed capable of.

How the hell was he expected to concentrate on _anything_ while that was going on? Tony dropped the lube again and just tried not to shoot off untouched like he was sixteen again. He eventually groped around and recovered the bottle, and lightly smacked Bucky on the arm with it, because if Bucky didn’t _stop doing that_ , then this was all going to be over far too fast.

Bucky grinned, ducking his chin and peering -- bashfully? How in the hell was he managing to look so fucking _innocent_ after the things he’d been doing to Tony -- up at Tony. He slicked his fingers and pressed against Tony’s opening, rubbing circles against the tight muscle. Whenever Tony hissed at the burn or moaned at Bucky’s stretch, Bucky planted sweet, gentle kisses along Tony’s thighs, keeping him distracted, soothing and murmuring little endearments as he worked. One finger slid in until Tony could feel the rest of Bucky’s hand, flush against his ass. Bucky crooked his finger, then twisted. Slow. Watching Tony’s face intently, easing himself into Tony’s tight passage.

“I got you,” Bucky said. “You are the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wish… wish you could see, that you could know… god, baby, I need you.”

The words sent shivers through Tony’s body and settled deep in his gut. “Come on, then,” he said, “give me another and let’s _go_.” Patience had never been his strongest suit. “Come on come on c’mon c’mon.” He rolled his hips, trying to pull Bucky deeper.

Bucky quivered, then nodded, his eyes dark and cloudy with lust, longing. The sort of expressions Tony didn’t usually see on other people directed at _Tony_. Bucky pressed a second finger in, twisted his wrist. Slowly scissored, back and forth. He pushed in again, and then again, fucking Tony open with his fingers. Played him out, twisted his wrist and seemed to stroke everywhere inside Tony, like he was counting hours on the clock, making note of every gasp and shudder and shiver that he caused. By the time he pulled his fingers out, Tony was drenched in sweat, trembling with need, near blinded with desire.

He lined them up, rubbing at Tony’s entrance with the head of his cock, eased just past the loosened ring of muscle. Stopped moving. “This okay, baby, you good?”

“Oh, god, so far past good,” Tony swore. “More, give me more, honey, _please_...” He was shaking with the effort of staying still, hoarse from shouting his need and begging. “Please.” He curled his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and tried to pull Bucky closer, _deeper_.

Bucky rocked against him, easing himself in, further, deeper. Trying to be gentle, but Tony was no longer in the mood for gentle and he locked his legs around Bucky’s hips, all but impaling himself on Bucky’s cock.

“God,” Bucky said through clenched teeth, “god, Tony, I can feel you _everywhere_.” Bucky moved, deeper, faster, more powerful, whispering Tony’s name in his ear, threatening his sanity as Bucky moaned and shivered out his pleasure. He rocked them together in time with his strokes. Got a hand between them, holding himself up on one arm, so that he could touch and tease and caress, giving Tony the friction he needed. “Oh, _god_ , Tony, I can’t stop it. I’m--”

“Come on,” Tony urged, and thrust up into Bucky’s hand extra hard, relishing the noises Bucky made, the way his body went rigid and his cock seemed to fill Tony even more as it pulsed. Another few rough thrusts and Tony couldn’t keep it back any longer, either. He threw his head back and practically howled as he came, the orgasm washing through him like wildfire starting at his groin and spreading all the way out to his fingers and toes.

“...Jesus,” he gasped, dropping limply back to the bed from the involuntary arch his body had tightened into.

Bucky kissed him, soft and soothing, and then rolled them -- back the other way, Tony was relieved to realize when they did not, in fact, fall off the bed, which was always way less fun than it sounded -- and let Tony sprawl, overheated and exhausted, across Bucky’s chest. His hand idly played with Tony’s hair, sifting through the locks, drifting down his neck, across his shoulder, and back, patting him tenderly. He was quiet, almost contemplative, and when Tony lifted his head to look, Bucky was gazing at him with an enigmatic expression.

“What’s that look?” Tony wondered.

“Whatever I was hopin’ to get out of this,” Bucky said, fingers still moving in Tony’s hair. “I think I got more’n I was expecting.”

“Yeah?” Tony leaned in for a kiss, and was pleased when it was readily given. He snuggled down into Bucky’s arms. “Intentions, huh?” He nodded. “Okay. Let’s have intentions.”

***

Bucky didn’t bother to try to keep the smile off his face, which was good. It never in a million years would have been possible. He sat at the kitchen table, first cup of coffee warm in his hand, and every time he blinked, he saw a flash of Tony’s face, heard the echo of his sighs. It was… nice.

Damn, that word was inadequate.

Bucky’d snuck Tony out the front door around two in the morning. Tony was still smirking about the idea of trolling Steve, but Bucky thought it might be a _little bit_ more than that. He thought maybe Tony didn’t want to make a deal out of… _this_. Yet. Whatever this was. They still weren’t defining it since Tony was quite certain he was going to screw _this_ up.

Bucky wondered who Tony was trying convince.

And he personally thought that if Tony could dream as big for himself as he did for the rest of the world… well… that’d be something to see.

Steve strode in the kitchen, mouth all twisted up like he’d licked a lemon. “Buck--”

“Doughnut?” Bucky shoved the box at him.

“No, Buck, I--”

“There’s raspberry jelly filled,” Bucky said, waggling the box back and forth.

“Buck--”

“Eat a fuckin’ doughnut, Steve,” Bucky said, “and then you can fuss at me.” He hesitated, then gave Steve a gift. “Don’t think I don’t remember your _try to make Bucky Barnes into a responsible adult_ look. I was on th’ receiving end of it for years at a time, punk.” Steve was always inordinately pleased when Bucky brought up old times; it wasn’t like Bucky didn’t remember them. He did. They were old and faded, and he didn’t quite recognize the boy he used to be, but he did _remember_ it. More like remembering something he read about, or saw in the movies. Not always as real or crisp as a _memory_. He was too busy trying to make himself into a new person to dwell too much on the old one. But it made Steve happy, and so, sometimes he’d drag that old box out and look at it. Usually all it did was make him sad; a person, a place, a feeling he could never quite recapture.

But Steve’s brilliant flash of smile was worth it, even for just a second. And he ate the damn doughnut, too, which was good, because otherwise Bucky was gonna eat the whole damn dozen and that might have been a little much, even for him.

Bucky got his phone out, because the world needed -- it was a moral imperative -- a picture of Captain fuckin’ America licking doughnut glaze off his fingers.

“So,” Steve said, finally, pushing back from the table after eating four doughnuts, “who was here last night?”

Bucky smirked. He and Tony had gone a second round just before midnight or so, and they’d tried to be quiet, but there was only so quiet that was possible when one, Tony Stark could suck cock like he’d fuckin’ invented it, and two, you had a super-soldier as a roommate.

“Same person as was on th’ phone yesterday afternoon,” Bucky said, because that was true.

“Bucky!” Steve was actively horrified.

“Oh, come on, Steve,” Bucky said. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

Steve spluttered for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, and then finally came up with, “You know Tony pays the bills on those credit cards you’ve been using, right?”

Oh, _jackpot_. “Tony specifically told me I was gonna have th’ _best time_ ,” Bucky said.

“Tony… knows…” That came out like Steve had regressed back to the thirties and someone was standing on his chest.

“Believe me,” Bucky said. “Tony was _all_ up on top of it.”

And that was the perfect exit line, because if he said anything more, Bucky was going to give up the game. Steve continued to choke and splutter behind him and Bucky whipped out his phone again. Shot Tony a brief text.

_Game on. He bought it, hook, line and sinker._


End file.
